Gin Blossoms Until I Fall Away Novels & Stories

POV: Beatrice The stems of my bouquet bent beneath my grip, each step down the aisle tightening my hold until the fragile blooms threatened to break. The sight before me was every bit as pristine as the planners had intended: white chairs perfectly aligned, delicate flowers swaying in the ocean breeze, and a makeshift altar framed by the endless horizon. Yet, for all its beauty, the scene felt hollow, each detail mocking me with its cheerful façade.

She aksed him who was had lost all his words. "Why I am here? Why I am here? Oh yeah, I came to take you to that bosom.... No, no ...I am not talking about your bosom.... It's blossom.... Cherry blossom. Cherry blossom season and...." "First, stop staring at my chest." Giselle put her hand to cover the area which made Hyun lose his mind. "Second, I could not understand what you are talking about." Hyun licked his dry lips and lool away from her.

It's gonna be one hell of a rinse, wash, repeat for him~. And after the white silhouette concluded with that it disappeared within a blink of an eye in front of Anima as well. And she exhaled out a long exasperated sigh out into the empty world of flowers as they flow within their own time of the brisking heat in summer, cringingly of the nose in fall, deceased in winter, and begin anew in spring. In their own time. Anima just sat down with her flowers blooming around her and just waited within that time as well…

~I am afraid I am shattered I’m so afraid That you will leave me again in the end Once again I put on a mask and go to see you~ -(BTS) Truth Untold ----- ------- ------- ------- ------ ------ "They are gone aren't they?" "What are?" "The flowers. The one that just bloomed. They are gone right?" Silence. "Just tell me already Sire, it's written all over than grin you have plastered on your face." "What is?" "THAT THE FLOWERS WERE STOLEN!"

He rested his profound gaze on me and asked, “How did you fall? When did you get here?” I clenched my fists tightly inside my sleeves. I knew that tearing things up at that moment would not do me any good. I obediently leaned into his arms like I always did. “I just got here. My heels were too high. I twisted my ankle.” The tension in his face finally eased. He scooped me up and headed out. He said in a low voice, “You’re not allowed to wear heels this high anymore.” I looked at the face I had once been so captivated by, yet an endless chill spread through my heart.

He came to Backwater Ridge and quietly waited for his life to end. At the end of his story, he looked at Zoe with a soft smile. “The first time I saw you, I suddenly thought of the camellias my mother used to grow in the yard. They were beautiful when they bloomed—and when they withered, they did it without a trace of hesitation.” His smile was gentle and lingering. Zoe stared at him, momentarily stunned, then looked down and whispered, “For me, it was calla lilies.” “Hm?” “I mean, the first time I saw you, I thought of a calla lily. Quiet. Clean. Beautiful.”

They were just for me. My love, I’m on my way. Closing my eyes. I can almost already smell her scent of Cherry blossoms and Pomegranate. I can’t wait to have you to myself….

The silence in Eleanor's greenhouse was absolute. Iris pressed her palm against the glass wall, feeling the coldness seep through her skin as she surveyed the devastation that had once been her grandmother's masterpiece. Where moonlit blooms had once danced with otherworldly beauty, now only withered stems remained, their leaves blackened with Evangeline's supernatural blight. The air that had once hummed with whispered conversations between herself and the botanical inhabitants now carried only the acrid scent of decay.

"Yes... yes... I’m okay. I’m just... I’m just..." His voice trailed off as his eyes fell on a cluster of pink and milk-colored petals shivering in the night breeze. Viburnum. They were the same flowers he had seen in the sprawling garden of the Wellman estate—the garden that had felt like a stolen paradise. He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingertips barely grazing the delicate, cool petals.

I whispered. He handed me release scrolls and departed. Two attendants entered with a cedar box and silver-lilies—moon-blooms that had once been our private language. I scoffed under my breath. A week ago, this might have thawed something. Today, I wanted to hurl the poisonous flowers into the fire. I dressed in silence. The deep crimson gown—color of blood—fit perfectly, tailored to my measurements as if he still remembered my body while forgetting my soul. When the escort arrived, I followed. The carriage glided through forest paths as the sky bled gold and violet, the same colors from our mating night.